


fly towards a secret sky

by growlery writes (growlery)



Series: muslim nursey [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Knitting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Muslim Derek "Nursey" Nurse, Poetry, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: Dex snorts, but it doesn't sound mean. None of the guys are, like, bad about the Muslim thing. There was always a place for him to pray at the Haus, before he moved in, and no one asks him to go to lunch on a Friday, and he never gets interrogated when he’s drinking (or not drinking) at a party. They can be weird, though, like that time someone brought up Nazem Kadri's suspension with him even though Nursey's ambivalent at best towards the Leafs.Dex has never been weird. There's a billion points of tension between them, but this isn't one of them.
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Series: muslim nursey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722022
Comments: 28
Kudos: 233





	fly towards a secret sky

**Author's Note:**

> a long time ago, in a land far away, i decided i wanted to write muslim nursey. it was supposed to be one fic, but then it was getting long, and it wasn't coming together the way i wanted to, so i'm posting it as a series of interlinked fics instead of letting it waste away in my wip folder. jazz hands! it is a very personal story, and [claire bon appetit voice] i want you to know i can accept 0 criticism right now. 
> 
> content note: nursey has a shutdown in the second section, which is described in detail. if you want to skip it, you can start reading again at _It’s kind of incredible how much better Dex and Nursey are getting on this year._ neither nursey nor dex's mental health issues are explicitly named - if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask. [my public twitter](http://twitter.com/unleishhell/) | [my private twitter](http://twitter.com/tightleish)
> 
> the title is from rumi’s diwan-e shams-e tabriz-i. the poem nursey reads dex is where everything is music, also by rumi, because nursey is a queer muslim cliché and so am i

Nursey's like, fine. He's still in bed because he's kinda tired and you can't skimp on beauty sleep, bro. It's not because something seized in his chest when he thought about going to class, and guilt curled in his gut when he thought about doing anything else. He's just tired. The semester's barely started; he's not used to the rhythms of the day, of classes and hockey practices and hockey games; he'll get into the swing of it soon. 

He takes a breath. Three beats in, four beats out. He listens to Dex's needles clicking together in the bunk below, a near steady rhythm broken only by soft swearing when Dex drops a stitch. Inhale. Click. Click. Exhale. Click. Click. 

Nursey might get a little lost in it, kinda, lulled to something like a peaceful headspace by the soft noises drifting up to him. And then his phone vibrates with the prayer notification, and he's yanked back to his body, the bed he hasn't been able to leave. 

Nursey inhales. Nursey silences his phone. Nursey pushes himself slowly up and drops down to the floor without using the ladder. 

"Jesus, Nurse," Dex says, and Nursey turns to flash him a brilliant smile. He's dropped his knitting into his lap, all his focus on glaring at Nursey. "We can't be down a d-man before the season's even started."

"Chill," Nursey says, for the look it puts on Dex's face. "It's like, five feet. I'm not gonna break anything." He glances up at the ceiling, putting his hands together. "Insha’allah. Please don't smite me for arrogance."

Dex snorts, but it doesn't sound mean. None of the guys are, like, _bad_ about the Muslim thing. There was always a place for him to pray at the Haus, before he moved in, and no one asks him to go to lunch on a Friday, and he never gets interrogated when he’s drinking (or not drinking) at a party. 

They can be weird, though, like that time someone brought up Nazem Kadri's suspension with him even though Nursey's ambivalent at best towards the Leafs. Dex has never been weird. There's a billion points of tension between them, but this isn't one of them. 

Nursey was half-worried that would change when they moved in together, like Dex was only curbing his bigotry in public and would let it all out as soon as he had the chance. Like, not _seriously_ worried. It's just the worry that lingers at the back of any interaction, wondering if this is the moment the understanding you thought you had between you shatters, the moment that they let you down. 

There was one close call, right at the start. Dex and Nursey ended up moving their things in at the same time on the same day, because they both had terrible timing. They were arguing about standard room-sharing shit, like Dex threatening to throw Nursey out the window if he didn't keep keep the place tidy, and Nursey insisting they didn't need a fucking chore rota, it's _one fucking room_. 

Then Dex had narrowed his eyes at him and said, "And your praying in the morning thing," and Nursey's stomach had dropped. 

"What about it?" Nursey asked, projecting chill at maximum intensity, resisting hard the urge to fold his arms across his chest. 

"If you're gonna be up at the crack of dawn, you've gotta be quiet about it," Dex told him. "I refuse to lose any sleep on your behalf."

The mental whiplash was, like, painful. Nursey blinked, then grinned, slow. "No promises," he said, and Dex had pointed a finger at him and said, "The fucking window, Nurse, I am not kidding," and Nursey had thrown a pillow at him, a giddy edge to his laughter he couldn't hold back. 

“Seriously, though,” Dex had said, making a face. “Don’t feel like you can’t. Do stuff. When I’m around. Because you don’t wanna bother me or whatever. It’s fine. You can do. Stuff.”

“Thanks for your permission to do my dark bidding, Dex,” Nursey said, laughing again, and Dex went bright red. “No, no, it’s cute. It’s sweet that you think I would do anything different on your account.”

“That’s what I said,” Dex said, still bright red, “but I guess Bitty was worried I’d go, like, full bigot the second we’re alone together.”

“Like you would do anything different on my account,” Nursey said, and Dex had smiled, a little relieved, maybe? Like maybe he had been worried about it. 

Sure, they haven't been living together long, and Dex is an asshole, but Nursey's pretty sure he's not that kind of asshole, and that's- well, it's the bare fucking minimum, but it means Nursey can relax, even if just a little, and that means, like. Kind of a lot. 

And anyway. Nursey’s an asshole, too. 

Dex hasn't started up knitting again, Nursey can tell. He's got his back to Dex as he toes his dirty laundry away to clear a space on the floor to lay down his prayer mat, but the clicking hasn't started up yet, and Nursey misses it, even though it'd probably be pretty distracting. Nursey doesn't know what Dex _is_ doing, and also, like, doesn't know why he cares what Dex is doing? But the back of Nursey’s neck is prickling, and he's calmer than he was earlier but he can still feel the weight in his shoulders and in his chest, squeezing at his lungs. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. 

Nursey turns around. Dex is watching him, and his face goes red when Nursey catches him, but he doesn't look away. Nursey raises his eyebrows, an invitation for Dex to say what he clearly wants to say, if he wants to say it, or to look away, and let the moment be over, if he doesn't. 

"This is probably really weird," Dex says quickly, like he's trying to get saying it over with. "Maybe offensive? I really don't mean to be offensive. Or weird. I was just thinking. It was just a thought."

Nursey's eyes narrow, just for a second. "I extend to you the benefit of the doubt," he says, and he's joking, but he's also really, really not joking. "I reserve the right to withdraw that if you're about to be a bigot."

He expects Dex to snap back at that, at Nursey always expecting the worst from him, or to get even more embarrassed. What he doesn't expect is for Dex to say, real fucking tentative, "Can I pray with you? Is that allowed?"

Nursey blinks. That's nowhere near anything he might've thought Dex would say, and Dex is still red, biting his lip a little, but he's also still meeting Nursey's eyes, clearly genuine, and determined to see this through the awkwardness. 

"Yeah," Nursey says, and it comes out softer than he means it to. "Yeah, Dex, that's allowed." Dex's face breaks into a smile, a real smile, and Nursey has to blink rapidly a few times, unused to feeling the force of it directed at him. "Not offensive. Or weird."

He really wants to ask why, but he gets that that’s not something he gets to do. If Dex wants him to know, he’ll tell him. 

And that's how Nursey ends up praying next to William fucking Poindexter. Nursey turns the mat so they can both use it, very conscious of Dex at his side as he gets into position, but when he closes his eyes, it's easy to push everything away, to empty his mind. 

There’s two of them, so Nursey should pray out loud, but he doesn’t. He doesn't know how he feels about sharing that much with Dex when he wouldn't understand any of what Nursey was saying, anyway, but Dex has his own shit to say when he prays, and he follows Nursey's movements until it's over, and it doesn’t stop feeling easy. 

Nursey's sitting with his eyes closed, hands cupped, holding onto the peace in his head a little longer. He hears Dex pull out his rosary, and it makes him smile, for some reason, so he gets up to find his misbaha and then folds himself up back next to Dex, and they just sit quietly for a while, counting beads. 

"Look at us," Dex says, eventually, "a liberal wet dream."

"Thank you for this opportunity for cultural exchange," Nursey says solemnly, and Dex huffs a laugh that Nursey feels in his chest, warmth spreading outwards. "Wanna go see if there's pie?"

"You gonna put a shirt on first?" Dex asks, and he sounds wry but he’s also definitely blushing. 

Nursey stretches, just to mess with Dex a little, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Dex looks at him a little narrowly, and Nursey looks innocently back, and Dex might be smiling as he shakes his head at Nursey. It makes Nursey feel warm all over, anyway. 

There is, indeed, pie. There is also Chowder and Farmer, watching TV with his feet in her lap. Dex materialises the fine jar out of seemingly nowhere and shakes it at them. Chowder pouts, and Dex visibly wavers for a second, since he’s not actually made of stern, but ultimately he stands firm. 

“Things are already breaking around the Haus,” he says, “come _on_.”

“A fine is a fine,” Farmer agrees, and holds out a note to Dex, her other hand stroking over Chowder’s ankle. It’s so adorably domestic Nursey could die, or, like, lose a minute of his life looking fondly at them until Dex pulls him down onto the other couch. 

It’s, just. It’d be nice to have something like that, someday. 

*

So, like. Maybe Nursey's not fine. Maybe he gets back from an early class the day after a grueling loss he was a minus two for and goes straight to his room and curls up on his bed and tries, tries, fails to breathe. It's not his first rodeo, and he knows how to bring himself back, and he's coming back, he is, he is, his heart is jumping in his chest but it'll settle, it'll calm, it'll be okay. 

And then the door opens, and Poindexter says, "Shit, Nursey."

Nursey might stop breathing, for a second. He doesn't break down in front of the guys, in front of _anyone_ , except maybe, sometimes, his therapist, but he _doesn't,_ he _can't_ , and Dex is at the head of Nursey's bed with a look on his face Nursey has never seen before. 

"Shit," Dex says again, softer. "I can- I can go, I didn't know- I can go."

Nursey opens his mouth. He can't make any words leave his throat. He closes it. He shakes his head hard, surprising both of them, but it's true, it is, it's what Nursey wants. 

"Okay," Dex says, still in that soft voice. Nursey doesn't see him come up the ladder but he sees him crawl up the bed, squeezing into the space between Nursey and the wall. "Can you breathe with me, Nursey? Deep breaths."

Nursey can't do anything but follow, the sound of Dex's breaths thunderously loud in his ears. There's a hand on Nursey's shoulder, anchoring him to his body, keeping him from flying apart, and Nursey feels it relax as his breathing starts to even out. The pain in his chest is still there, but he’s breathing around it, he can breathe around it. 

"Better?" Dex says quietly, and Nursey's got his voice back enough to manage, "Yeah," little more than an exhale of breath. 

"Good," Dex says, still so fucking soft it hurts something in Nursey. Nursey wishes he could see Dex's face. He’s glad he can't. "Give me three things you can see, Nurse." 

Nursey's breath hitches. Dex's hand moves over Nursey's back, rubbing circles into his shirt. "Come on, Nurse," he says, firm but still gentle. "What do you see. Three things."

Nursey looks. "Hockey stick," he says, low and gravelly. He clears his throat, swallowing, swallowing. "Textbook. Dirty underwear."

" _Your_ dirty underwear," Dex mutters, and Nursey hiccups around something that might be a laugh. Dex's hand is still moving, pressing in just a little, enough that Nursey can feel it, over the ache in his body from tensing up all over. "Okay. Three things you can hear."

Nursey has to take a second. "Bitty singing," he says, and it makes him smile despite himself. "Cars outside." He pulls his lip between his teeth. "You."

"Cheating," Dex says, sounding more like his usual, but with no heat to his words. "I wasn't saying anything."

"Can still hear you," Nursey says. "Like, breathing."

He's still not quite back, which is good, because that's probably a weird thing to say, and Nursey doesn't have the capacity to feel embarrassed about it right now. To his credit, Dex only pauses for a second, his hand briefly going still on Nursey's back. 

"Fine, I'll let you have it," Dex says, and he's touching Nursey's neck now, just a brush of his fingertips before he pushes them into Nursey's hair. Nursey's eyes flutter closed, letting himself feel, just feel it. "Three things you're touching."

"Mattress. Pillow."

"Maybe not cheating, but definitely low-balling. I thought better of you, Nurse."

Nursey licks his lips. "You," he says, and his voice sounds weird, he can hear that his voice sounds weird, even though he's almost all the way back to himself, now, and this should be okay. 

Dex's hand stills. "I can stop," he says, fast. "Sorry, I should've asked-" 

"No, it's fine." Nursey feels his face do something that’s probably a grimace. "I mean, maybe, but, you know I'm good on, like, touching in general." He closes his eyes, takes a breath, turns around. "And it was, like. Good. It helped a lot."

Dex is smiling kinda tentatively at him, the kind of soft he is with Bitty, or Lardo, or Chowder, or basically anyone who isn't Nursey. 

"Good," Dex says. 

"Like," Nursey starts, then loses his nerve. He can't be looking Dex in the eye for this, so he drops his gaze to Dex's left cheek, the spray of freckles there. "Like, thank you. You didn’t have to do that."

"I wasn't just gonna sit there," Dex says, offended. "If you didn't want to be alone, I wasn’t just gonna leave you. That'd be shitty."

"Fuck, Poindexter, just accept my fucking gratitude, okay?" Nursey says, and it's the kind of thing that might turn into a fight, but there's, like, something happening here, a brief slip into an alternate universe where things are easy between them. 

"Fine, you're welcome," Dex says, rolling his eyes, but he's also smiling, kinda. "I figured it was worth trying." He's carefully not looking at Nursey when he says, "It usually works for me."

And, like, Nursey feels cracked open, partly the shutdown and partly the fact that Dex saw it, saw him like that, but Dex just cracked himself open a little, too, and he’s still stroking through Nursey's hair, and Nursey makes himself cross the breach. 

"Yeah, Dex," he says, soft. "It worked, it worked super well, it was really good."

Dex breathes a little shakily. "Feel free to say no, but. Can we hug? That was kind of a lot." 

And maybe, before, Nursey would’ve said something like, "Of course you have to make this about you," but that wouldn’t be fair, because that’s not what Dex is doing, at all. It makes sense that Nursey would’ve thought that. He didn’t- he didn’t _know_. He’s not sure what exactly it was that he didn’t know, but maybe it’s just all of it, Dex’s... Dexness.

Which. _Shit_. Nursey really likes Dex’s Dexness, and the feeling is kind of overwhelming now that he’s noticed it, because it’s, like, there are _layers_ , under the surface, ready to be peeled back. It’s so much bigger than Nursey would’ve thought, if he had ever let himself, if it hadn’t just ambushed him in a moment of vulnerability. 

"Shit, I’m sorry,” Dex rushes out, "giving you a panic attack was the last thing I wanted to do, I’m so fucking stupid-"

"You're not," Nursey says, and then he sits up and puts his arms around Dex. 

Dex relaxes into it immediately, his head dropping to Nursey’s shoulder. It's nice. It's really nice. Nursey's touched Dex a ton before, obviously. They're hockey players with very few physical boundaries, but this is, like, a _hug_. A really good hug, where you're both all in, holding each other not too loose but not too tight either, feeling the press of the other person's body all along your own. 

Nursey's very deliberately not thinking about the other ways it's nice. This is bros and that would extremely not be bros, and this is too good a thing to ruin, not right now, and possibly not ever. Those layers can stay firmly unpeeled, thanks. 

"I know you don’t like people seeing you like that," Dex says, eventually, pulling back. "But if you ever... and you want… I can, like, do that."

"Same, buddy," Nursey says, and Dex bursts out laughing. 

"What," Nursey goes, grinning despite himself.

"I thought you were a fucking English major, Nursey, shouldn’t you be better at words?" 

"What, you want me to write you a sonnet about it?" Nursey says, laughing, and then, "Huh."

"Don't you dare," Dex says immediately, "don’t you fucking dare," and things feel… kinda normal again? But also kinda not normal. Like. More comfortable. They’re... comfortable together. Nursey is comfortable with Dex, and when the fuck did that happen? 

Nursey’s good at compartmentalising. He kind of has to be. He wouldn't have got to where he is if he couldn't keep some distance between hockey, the person he has to be in that space, and his family and his faith, inexplicably entwined. 

But it seems he's better at it than he thought, if this was boxed up somewhere in his brain he didn't know about, not until now. 

*

It’s kind of incredible how much better Dex and Nursey are getting on this year. They even hang out alone sometimes, without Chowder as a buffer. Today, they’re sitting out on the quad under a tree. 

Well. Dex is sitting, leaning against the bark with his knitting balanced on his crossed knees, and Nursey’s stretched out on the ground, a book between his fingers. It’s not for class, which he’s going to feel guilty about later, but that’s a problem for Future Nursey. Present Nursey is all about what sparks joy, and that is decidedly not comparative twentieth-century American literature. 

A leaf drifts down and lands on Nursey’s face, and he blows it away. It’s still pretty nice out, the weather only just starting to turn. Nursey can still wear his leather jacket over a low-cut shirt without having to physically stop himself shivering. He did find this peacoat in a thrift store over the summer which he’s kinda excited to break out, but like, only when he physically has to. 

Nursey takes a break after a poem and looks at the sky. His gaze wanders over to Dex, lingers just a little too long. Dex looks up, raises his eyebrows. 

“What are you knitting?” Nursey asks, to cover himself. 

“Booties. My cousin Annie’s having a baby,” Dex explains, before Nursey can ask why Dex is knitting booties, of all things. “That’s one Christmas present sorted.”

“Dude,” Nursey says, unable to hide his disdain, “it’s October.”

Dex shrugs. “I’ve got a lot of family to knit stuff for. Gotta start early.”

“You make everyone stuff?” Nursey asks, and Dex’s eyes flash, and Nursey winces. “I didn’t mean- just- that’s really cool, man. That you put that work in for everyone.”

The preemptive anger on Dex’s face melts away. His cheeks go red. “It’s not, like. I do it for myself, mostly.”

There’s a chirp in there, Nursey wouldn’t have to look particularly hard to find it, but Dex’s face is soft, and it’s a beautiful fucking day, and he just- doesn’t want to. He leans in, raises his eyebrows at Dex. “Yeah?”

“Like, when I’m stressed,” Dex starts, and Nursey cuts in, “Which is all the fucking time,” and Dex scowls at him. 

“When it gets bad,” Dex says instead, and Nursey falls silent. “It’s good to keep my hands busy, give my brain something to focus on. Stop me spiralling.” He looks down at his knitting, balanced on his knees. “And when I'm done, I have this thing that I made.”

“That’s cool,” Nursey says, and he means it. He shuffles in closer, until their thighs are almost touching. “Can I try?”

“I don’t have any other needles. You’re gonna fuck up my booties,” Dex says, and Nursey pouts. He is one hundred percent owning what he is doing right now, and it is pouting. Dex scowls at him. “Ugh, fine. I can probably fix whatever you do.”

He hands Nursey the needles, and Nursey takes them, trying not to do anything embarrassing like think about their fingers brushing, and how cool Dex’s hand is. He holds the needles the way Dex was doing, or at least, he thinks he does, but Dex bursts out laughing, and it’s not mean, just… fond. Nursey swallows. He could be projecting. He hopes he’s not projecting. 

“Other way up,” Dex says, but he doesn’t wait for Nursey to do it himself. He plucks the needles back out of Nursey’s hands, turns them over, and holds them out so Nursey can see them. “We’re gonna start simple. Here’s how you do a knit stitch.”

Dex goes slow, his movements deliberate and exaggerated for Nursey’s benefit, and Nursey might get a little distracted watching his hands. But Dex does it a few times, and it looks pretty simple, and Nursey can totally do this. 

Nursey totally can’t do this. There are too many moving parts for him to keep track of, and it’s really hard to poke the needle under the wool, and it’s just- a lot harder than it looks, okay. 

“I don’t know what I did,” he says, tragic. 

Dex is covering his face with his palm, but Nursey’s pretty sure that’s a smile hiding behind his fingers. “You’re hopeless,” Dex says. “C’mere.”

His hands wrap loosely around Nursey’s, and Nursey’s breathing goes a little uneven, for a moment. If Dex notices, he doesn’t acknowledge it; he’s moving Nursey’s hands into position with the needles, guiding him through the motions. Under Dex’s hands, Nursey does one stitch, then another, then another. His skin is prickling all down his arms, spreading from those points of contact. 

“There,” Dex says, so close to Nursey’s ear that he feels Dex’s breath on his cheek. It flutters through him, stronger than it has any right to be. Nursey tenses. But before Nursey can embarrass himself, Dex is moving away, letting go of Nursey’s hands, and Nursey’s relieved, and not at all disappointed. “Now you try.”

It takes Nursey a few goes, but he gets it, painstakingly looping the wool around the needle and threading it through, and it’s only three stitches on a now very out of shape bootie, but it feels like triumph. 

“I’m amazing,” he tells Dex when he hands the knitting back, and Dex makes a face at him, and then at the knitting, already picking at the loops of wool. “I’m also never doing that again, wow. I didn’t realise it was so fiddly.”

Dex shrugs. “You get used to it.” There's something soft in his face that Nursey doesn't wanna look away from, but then Dex's mouth twists wryly and he looks down, away. Nursey didn't realise how much he liked having Dex's attention on him until he doesn't, any more. 

“You have to let me read you a poem now,” Nursey says, knowing that will get a response, and sure enough, Dex’s head shoots up in outrage. 

“That was your idea,” he protests, but Nursey’s already flipping his poetry book back open. 

“ _Don’t worry about saving these songs_ ,” Nursey starts. “ _And if one of these instruments breaks, it doesn’t matter_.”

Dex groans, loud and clearly over-exaggerated, but he stays quiet otherwise, watching Nursey. Nursey can feel the heat of Dex’s eyes on his skin as he reads. 

>   
>  We have fallen into the place  
>  where everything is music.  
>    
>  The strumming and the flute notes  
>  rise into the atmosphere,  
>  and even if the whole world’s harp  
>  should burn up, there will still be  
>  hidden instruments playing.  
>    
>  So the candle flickers and goes out.  
>  We have a piece of flint and a spark.  
>    
>  This singing art is sea foam.  
>  The graceful movements come from a pearl  
>  somewhere on the ocean floor.  
>    
>  Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge  
>  of driftwood along the beach, wanting!  
>    
>  They derive  
>  from a slow and powerful root  
>  that we can’t see.  
> 

“ _Stop the words now_ ,” Nursey finishes. “ _Open the window in the centre of your chest, and let the spirits fly in and out_.”

There’s a beat, then, “Oh, you’re done now?” Dex says dryly. “I thought that would never end.”

“That was eight stanzas,” Nursey scoffs, “ _weak_.”

“It was, like. Nice, I guess,” Dex says. “Very evocative imagery.” Nursey raises his eyebrows, and Dex rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I paid attention in lit class.”

“Sometimes I think we do poetry a disservice, dissecting every single part of it like that. Like. It’s enough to just read it and feel something, you know?”

Nursey stops himself before he can really get going, but Dex doesn’t look bored, or annoyed. 

“Sure,” he says. He’s quiet for a second, and then: “It made me feel peaceful. I liked it.”

Nursey feels the smile break out, wide, on his face. "I'll have to lend you the book, then," he says, and maybe he'd mean it like a challenge, normally, but it comes out sincere. Honest. 

"Yeah," Dex says. "Maybe you will." 

*

Nursey doesn't always wake up for Fajr. He's really, really not a morning person, especially when that morning comes before 5am. But it's getting into winter, the latest it's gonna be, and if he wakes up just a little earlier than he has to for practice, he can catch the last of the dusk before dawn hits the sky. 

His alarm is vibrate only, as inoffensive as it can be, but he's already awake, this morning, never managed to get to sleep. He silences it quickly, exhales a slow breath, then climbs down from the bunk to pray. 

He lingers when he's done, eyes closed, hands clasped, head tucked into his chin. He's feeling… something, he doesn't know. Whatever kept his brain working, kept him from sleep. No practice today, at least, and his only class is at 10am. He can drag himself to that and then come back home and crash until he feels vaguely human again. 

With a sigh, a stretch, and a hand through his hair, he gets up to go back to his bed, but freezes mid-turn. Dex is awake, watching him. Or rather, Dex is very clearly looking away so Nursey won't realise Dex was watching him, but not quickly enough for Nursey not to notice. 

"Uh," Dex says. 

"Hey," Nursey says. The chat they had on move-in day about early mornings rings in his ears, and he winces. "Sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't," Dex says quickly. 

"Can't sleep either?" Nursey asks, and Dex laughs. 

"Happens," he says, and it's- the sleep-softness in Dex's voice, the hazy liminal space that is seeing the early morning from the wrong side, _something-_

"Do you wanna chill for a bit?" Nursey blurts. It has to be something, something other than Nursey just wanting it, because Nursey doesn't want this kind of thing from Dex. "I mean. If neither of us are gonna sleep."

"Sure," Dex says, after a second, and Nursey breathes out. 

"Cool," he says. "Let me just get my phone."

Dex has shifted over, back pressed against the wall, when Nursey crawls into the bunk beside him. Nursey settles in the clear space Dex made for him without thinking about it because if he thinks about it, he's either gonna panic or run away or run away and then panic, and just thinking about it makes him feel shot-through, exhausted down to his bones. He's not touching Dex anywhere, but he can feel exactly where each one of Dex's limbs are and exactly how far away they are from his own. Nursey has to make himself take deeper breaths, hoping Dex hasn't noticed, but it gets easier when he opens his phone. 

He has a message from Ruqayyah, something from one of those halal meme pages: a plate of cake labelled _sins_ , with someone labelled _muslims_ cutting a slice labelled _eating pork_ and then taking the rest of the cake. Nursey obligingly sends back a line of cry-laughing emojis, and almost instantly gets a response: _you woke for fajr?? masha'allah brother derek 🙏 🙏_ and he sends back _jazakallah your support is so kind sister 😒._

_do you think you could support your sister back by proofreading the paper she has due at 5pm_ and Nursey texts back _ofc_ and doesn't think about how tired he's gonna be as they figure out the best time to meet up in the library. This is what people invented Red Bull for. 

Dex shifts, his socked foot brushing over Nursey's calf, and Nursey jumps. 

"Sorry," Dex says quickly. 

"No worries," Nursey says, just as quickly. "It's your bed."

"Yeah, but," Dex says, though he doesn't seem to have a but, because he trails off into silence. 

It's awkward, suddenly, Nursey cursing whatever weird impulse made him think this was a good idea, and he's about to blurt his apologies and beat a hasty retreat when Dex clears his throat and says, "What were you laughing about?" 

Nursey blinks. "Uh," he says. 

"Earlier," Dex clarifies. "On your phone, you were laughing at something."

"Oh," Nursey says, and shakes his head. He's not used to them exchanging these kinds of pleasantries, but then again, he's not used to them platonically sharing a bed in the early hours of the morning, either. He scrolls up and shows the meme to Dex, eyeing him warily. "That's the kind of joke only we can make, though-"

"Yeah, I got that," Dex says, his eye-roll audible. "Is that why you, like. Drink and stuff?" 

"It's not _why_ ," Nursey says, and he doesn't know why he wants to explain this, wants to explain it to Dex, who barely has half the context and wouldn't get why it matters. Nursey wants him to get it. "It's just, like. Other things are more important, you know?" 

"Right," Dex says, sounding amused. "Like not eating pork."

"Like being a good person," Nursey says, "and like, caring about people and putting more good into the world than bad, and."

He's breathing a little heavily, now. He can feel Dex looking at him, a line of heat from his temple to his jaw. 

"I get that," Dex says quietly. "I mean, obviously I don't _get it_ get it, but. That makes sense." There's a few more seconds of silence, and then: "I’m kinda Catholic by default. I like all the rituals, but I don't know if I believe in God, or whatever. And that's, like. A big deal. Maybe the biggest deal. But like you said. Other things are more important."

Nursey knocks their shoulders together, light, and doesn't move away. "I get that," he says, a conscious echo, and Dex laughs, soft and bright. 

*

Nursey gets to the library first, but it's not long before Ruqayyah joins him, with her girlfriend A'isha and some of their other friends that Nursey knows in the way everyone at college knows of each other. 

Nursey's on his second Red Bull, a solid one quarter of the way through Ruqayyah's paper, when he spots a familiar head of red hair and an equally familiar Sharks hoodie, not attached to the same people. 

"Hey Chowder," A'isha calls out, beaming at him, before Nursey can say anything. 

Chowder's face lights up and he waves back, waving harder when he spots Nursey, and dragging Dex over. Dex is wearing that _of course Chowder knows and has charmed literally everyone on campus face_ , but it shifts slightly when he meets Nursey's gaze. 

Turns out A'isha's on the volleyball team, which Nursey really should've known and feels slightly guilty about not remembering, and Dex hovers for a second as she and Chowder talk animatedly before sighing and taking the seat next to Nursey. 

"Guess we're crashing your study group," he says. "Hey, Ruqayyah."

He pronounces it almost perfectly, hard on the q, and Ruqayyah grins. "More the merrier," she says, and it is. There's a few minutes of it being kinda awkward, that inevitable thing that happens when you mix totally different groups of people, but it doesn't take long for Chowder to endear himself to the entire table, and Dex and Ruqayyah seem to have become best friends at some point while Nursey wasn't looking. 

That thing, from before, that kept him up all night, it isn’t gone, exactly. But Nursey feels kind of glowy, and warm, surrounded by so many of his favourite people, and it helps, and it’s enough, for right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're unfamiliar the meme referenced is this and it keeps me awake at night: 


End file.
